“Let’s do it right now,” Mister decided. “There’s still enough light. We’ll take the pickup to carry back the tables and baskets, and I’ll bring my toolbox so I can winterize the shed. Ready?”
Angus and Sadie—who always ate more quickly than the humans, and were resting by the kitchen stove—knew what “ready” meant. Both dogs jumped up and went to the door. They stood there, ready.
“Look at those two,” Missus said, and she laughed.
“I guess they can come with us,” Mister decided. “Let’s go, Angus, Sadie.” He held the kitchen door open.
The dogs ran out, jumped down the steps, and dashed to the truck, which was parked in front of the barn. When Mister caught up with them, he lowered the transom, and they jumped up onto the bed. He closed the transom behind them.
They bounced along down the dirt driveway to the farm stand. Sadie wanted to tell Angus about the ditches, and everything she’d found there over the summer, but Angus was thinking about something else. Mister is the boss of everyone. He’s the one who decides everything. Have you noticed?
No.
He’s the boss, so I’m supposed to do what he says. And so should you.
I try.
Try harder.
All right. But will you come into the ditch? Sometimes, I can smell something. Maybe it’s a squirrel, or maybe a raccoon.
Or a skunk.
What’s a skunk?
Something you don’t want to meet up with. Mister said.
All right, I won’t.
Or maybe a porcupine.
What’s that?
Something else you never want to meet. Don’t worry, Sadie. Maybe it’s a fox. I’d recognize that smell.
If it’s a fox smell in the ditch, you can tell me and then I’ll know it, too.
When the truck stopped at the farm stand, Mister didn’t come around to let them jump out. He told them, “Angus, Stay! Sadie, Stay!” then said to Missus, “Let’s get to work. You load up the rear while I check out the building.”
Angus pointed this out to Sadie. See what I mean about Mister deciding? Everybody does what Mister tells them to.
I want to go to the ditch, Sadie said.
Mister said Stay! You have to.
They waited, standing with their front paws on the edge of the pickup bed, watching Missus stack baskets into piles and getting out of the way when she dumped the piles into the back of the truck, watching Mister walk all around the inside of the stand and then all around the outside. Sometimes he hammered at a board. After Missus carried baskets out to the pickup, she dragged out the two long pieces of wood that made the tops of the tables, and put them in, too. The back of the truck was getting crowded, but the dogs stayed put, as they had been told.
“Good dogs,” Missus said.
“Good dogs,” Mister said. “Let me help with the sawhorses.”
It was dark by the time they jounced back along the driveway to stop in front of the big barn door. “You take the tables into the barn,” Mister said, as he lowered the transom at the back of the truck.
“The baskets go on the porch,” Missus said. “For storing potatoes and carrots in the cellar.”
“That’ll do! Angus,” Mister said to the dogs. “That’ll do! Sadie.” Angus and Sadie jumped down out of the truck, and that’s when trouble began.
Because Sadie saw something. She saw something moving. A shadow darker than the dark air moved in the garden.
Look!
She barked two short sharp barks. At the same time, she ran.
What she had seen seemed like a cat, but it didn’t run like a cat. What she had seen was black and bright white, and it was humping along through the shadows.
Mister called out in a big, loud voice. “Angus, Sit! Stay! Sadie, Sit!”
“Oh no,” Missus said, as Sadie passed her and kept on running. Missus was on her way to the porch, where the not-a-cat was also headed. “No, Sadie. Leave it—”
“Sadie, Sit!” roared Mister.
Sadie couldn’t stop, and she didn’t want to. She was going to chase this animal away even if Angus wasn’t going to show her how and help her. The animal was running away from her, and she was chasing it away.
Missus put the baskets down on the ground and hurried back to the truck, and Mister, and Angus. “Good dog, Angus. Good sitting, good staying,” she said.
Sadie went right after that strange animal. Get out! Get away from the house! Go away! Or I’ll—
The animal stopped and turned to look at her.
Sadie stopped, too. She was much bigger than it was. Out! Get out!
The animal stamped its front foot. Stamp, stamp, stamp.
Sadie wasn’t afraid of any stamping. She started toward it, and growled. Or you’ll be sorry.
The animal stopped stamping and turned around. Sadie took a couple of quick steps forward, ready to run after it some more and finish chasing it away. It raised its tail up into the air and—
Terrible! Help! Stop! Angus!
Sadie turned and ran, howling and howling. Her eyes burned! She couldn’t see!
Help! It hurts!
And then she ran as fast as she could to get away from the smell. That smell was horrible. She didn’t like to breathe it in, and she couldn’t get away from it. It was following her—no, it wasn’t following her—it was her. The horrible nasty scary smell was all over her!
Sadie ran up to Missus, who was hiding behind Mister, who was hiding behind the truck.
Don’t come near me, Angus warned her.
“It was a skunk,” Missus said.
“It had to happen sooner or later,” Mister said. “Maybe this will teach her to obey.”
I told you, Angus said.
Help! cried Sadie, and she didn’t care who helped her as long as she could stop feeling so horrible.
“All right, all right. Come! Sadie,” Mister said.
Sadie came.
“Sit!” Mister said, when she was still a distance away from him.
Sadie sat.
“Good dog, now, Stay!” Mister said. “We’ll get some—do we have any lemons? Any tomato juice? You go up and see what we have, and I’ll get the tub out, and the hose. Smart dog, Angus, keep your distance from her.”
How can I help you if you don’t obey? Angus explained.
I will now, Sadie said, and she meant it. She sat there, shaking. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
They covered her with sharp-smelling tomato juice, and they rubbed her with canned tomatoes, too, and then they washed her with soap and hosed her down. But she could still smell her own terrible smell. Angus wouldn’t sleep in the stall with her that night, and all the next day, Missus wouldn’t let her into the house.
“You stink, Sadie,” they all said.
She did stink, she knew it, and she was sorry. But she didn’t want them telling her that all the time, all day, even if it was true. That night, however, Angus returned to their stall to sleep on the blanket with her, so Sadie could begin to stop remembering.
After the skunk, the days kept on getting shorter and the air colder until one day Missus dug potatoes and carrots out of the garden and carried them down into the cellar in big bushel baskets. Later, in the middle of the night, Angus heard something.
Wake up! he said to Sadie. We have work to do.
Where? What? Angus?
There’s something in the garden. Follow me!
What if it’s a skunk?
Don’t worry, I’m going first. I’ll tell you if it is.
Angus ran out of the barn, barking. Sadie, also barking, followed, but she kept back behind Angus, in case it might turn out to be a skunk. She could see something shambling along, moving away, around the back of the barn. Angus didn’t chase it. He stayed in the garden, barking. Then, Gone. Only a raccoon, he said.
The dogs returned to their stall, but it wasn’t long before Angus woke Sadie up again. They’re back! Stay behind me! Don’t worry, they’re
afraid when we bark. He ran out of the barn, barking and barking and barking. Sadie followed at a distance, and she barked, too. This time Mister and Missus came running outside, slamming the kitchen door and thumping their feet on the steps.
“What is it?” Missus asked.
Mister said, “Something in the garden. Raccoons? I can’t see, and I can’t hear a thing with all this noise the dogs are making.”
“I’ll get the flashlight,” Missus said.
Now the dogs could see two—no, four—raccoons at the back of the garden. The four raccoons didn’t run away the way the solitary raccoon had. All four turned to look at Angus, and all four showed their sharp teeth, snarling.
Angus wasn’t afraid. He was bigger than any two of them put together. He barked and charged.
Sadie was afraid. She remembered the skunk, and besides, she didn’t like the gleaming white look of those teeth. She stood where she was and barked.
Finally, when Angus was almost close enough to grab a leg in his teeth, the raccoons turned and shambled away, the way raccoons move when they move fast. That’s right! And don’t even think about coming back! Angus told them.
By now, Mister and Missus had come out to the garden. On the ground right in front of them was something—something bright, like daylight, like sunlight, but small like a rock, and flat like a puddle, and it slid over the ground like a snake.
Sadie forgot about raccoons. She was busy watching the light.
She watched it flow over the grass in front of Mister and Missus, and then she watched it bump up and down over the dirt in the garden. It tried to climb up the tomato stalks and it tried to hide in the leaves around the pumpkin vines. It moved all over everything, like a moth, and then it moved back and forth and in circles on the ground near Mister and Missus.
Of course Sadie followed it. She put her nose out at it, put her nose right into it, to smell what it was, but it smelled of the grass and the dirt, the tomato stalks and the pumpkin leaves. It had no smell of its own. She tried to get close to it, but it slipped away. So she chased it, moving right along with it, sometimes stepping on it, sometimes backing away, turning and turning. It moved around as if it was trying to get away, but also as if it might want to chase her back. It was just like one of the moths from the summer, only much bigger and not flying in the air.
Sadie didn’t try to catch it, any more than she had tried to catch the moth. What would be the point of catching it? The point was being right there with it, right behind, right beside, right ahead of. It was a game of With, not Catch.
“What is she doing?” Mister asked. Missus was laughing, now, and he started laughing, too. “I mean, it’s only a flashlight. What does she think it is?”
“It’s what I told you this summer, she’s dancing. Look at her.”
The bright thing started moving faster, in a circle. Sadie moved faster, too, keeping up. It moved back and forth, then around, and Sadie moved back and forth and turned around, too. She jumped up and landed, jumped and turned and landed.
Mister and Missus were laughing and laughing.
“Dancing it is,” Mister said. “You’re something else, Sadie.”
Yes!
“What about you, Angus?” Mister asked. “Don’t you want to dance? No, you wouldn’t. You know that dogs don’t dance.”
Yes. I know. But it was exciting to watch Sadie, and Angus barked a couple of times from the excitement of Sadie dancing and Mister and Missus laughing.
After a while Missus said, “Let’s get back to bed,” and the puddle of light went away, leaving them all in sudden darkness.
“Good work keeping those raccoons out, Angus,” Mister said. “Good work dancing, Sadie.”
Mister and Missus returned to the house, and Angus and Sadie returned to their stall. They curled up close to each other for warmth, and Angus said, I can learn everything. Teach me how to dance.
You just—I just—do it. I don’t know how to teach something.
That’s right, Angus said. You don’t. Oh well. It’s lucky I do, so I can teach you all the things I know.
It was cold the next morning. A thin layer of ice lay on top of the dogs’ water bowl, but sunlight soon warmed the air. After morning training and chores, Mister drove the tractor out of the barn, and then stopped it and climbed down while it was still running. He called Angus. “What do you say we check on the sheep?”
Angus came to sit in front of Mister. He watched Mister’s face and waited to find out what Mister wanted him to do.
“You, too, dancing dog,” Mister said. “Sadie, Come!”
Sadie came. She sat beside Angus, and they both watched Mister’s face. Sadie’s tail wagged back and forth across the ground.
“Get in, Angus. You, too, Sadie.” Mister held the door open. Angus jumped up into the cab, but Sadie didn’t move.
Come on, said Angus. Don’t keep Mister waiting.
“Sadie, Come!” Mister said.
But—but it’s the tractor.
Mister’s voice warned. “Sadie? Come!”
Angus said, When I’m here it’s safe.
Mister’s voice got deep. “Sadie! Come!”
Sadie had to obey, and she did. She came slowly, slowly, close to the tractor, climbed slowly up and found herself in the cab. The tractor smelled terrible inside. Then Mister climbed in, too, and shut the door.
Sadie’s ears ached with the grinding roar of the motor. Her bones rattled. Even standing still that tractor shook. And then it started moving.
Sadie crowded up beside Angus. She was shaking, and the tractor was shaking, too.
The tractor not only shook, but also bounced as it went along the dirt road, traveling alongside the fields on its way up to the pastures. Sadie bounced into Angus, and he bounced back into her, and they both bounced into Mister. Then Sadie stopped noticing the horrible noises and the horrible smells. Instead, she noticed the bouncing.
Bounce! Bounce!
It’s not a game, Sadie. We have work to do.
Look out! Here I bounce!
When the tractor halted, they were in a grassy pasture with big boulders. Mister climbed down. Angus and Sadie jumped down after him. “Angus, Sit! Stay!” said Mister. Angus sat.
“Sadie, Sit!” Mister said, but Sadie smelled rocks and sheep and soil, woods and grass and sunshine. The air came so cold and fresh into her mouth, she wanted to run in big circles. So she did. She ran in one big circle, and then another, and had started on a third when she saw the sheep. And stopped dead. She got her sights on one sheep, eyeing it. That sheep knew better than to try to get away from her.
Then Mister called her. “Sadie, Come!”
Without hesitation, Sadie rose and went to him.
“Good dog. Now Angus, Heel! Sadie, Come!”
Stay with me. Do what I do. Pay attention.
The three of them approached the flock of sheep, Mister leading, Angus just behind Mister’s left foot and sticking close. Sadie stayed a little way behind Angus. As they got closer, the sheep looked up, but they didn’t see anything to worry about so they went right back to grazing on the rich fall grass. Coming close to the sheep, Sadie had to stop. She crouched low and flat again, eyeing two of them, but Mister said, “Sadie, Come!” and she got up, reluctantly, to obey.
Sheep were scattered all over the pasture, in groups. Sadie even saw a pair off behind a big rock, their heads close to the ground.
Mister went in the other direction with Angus at his heels and Sadie behind them. “That’s eight,” Mister said, “ten, eleven …”
What is he doing?
Checking on the sheep. What he said.
What are we doing?
I’m heeling.
Sadie followed along, with the air sweet in her mouth and the soft, confused voices of the sheep in her ears.
“Sixteen,” Mister said, “seventeen, eighteen,” as he approached another group of sheep. They backed away from him. “Sadie,” he said, in a warning voice, “Come!” How
did he know that she was about to drop down and get an eye on those sheep?
Then Mister was finished, and he repeated, “Angus, Heel!” when he turned to go back to the tractor. “Sadie, Come!”
He didn’t check those other ones. Why didn’t he check them? Sadie asked.
What other ones? Where are you going?
They’re over behind—
Wait. I have to heel first. Follow me, Sadie.
Sadie followed. After Angus had heeled obediently all the way back to the tractor, he barked.
“What is it?” Mister asked.
Angus turned toward the rocks. This way?
That’s right, I saw—
Angus barked twice, sharply, and ran to the rocks.
When Angus—followed by Sadie, who was followed by Mister—came around the boulder and saw them, the two sheep raised their heads to see what was happening. Sadie dropped down and eyed them, so they wouldn’t run away.
“Angus, Sit!” Mister said. “That’s nineteen and twenty. Good for you, Angus. Clever dog. That’s all of them.”
Clever me, too, Sadie said.
You didn’t bark, Angus explained.
At dinner time, Mister told Missus about it. “I’d have wasted all morning looking for those other two if he hadn’t found them for me. He’s a natural, I keep telling you.”
“Yes, you do,” Missus agreed.
“I have to look up the requirements, but I’d like to try him in an obedience class competition. Maybe in the spring? If we work hard all winter.”
“What about Sadie?” Missus asked.
“She’s going to take a lot longer to get well-trained. But she has her own special talent, don’t you? Dancing Dog, that’s you, Sadie. The only dancing dog in the world, maybe. But you, Angus, have some work ahead of you. How do you feel about hard work?”
Angus was half asleep so he just wagged his tail. Thump, thump, his tail slapped against the floor.